July 22, 2008
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Here on the bridge she can lose herself.
Here on the bridge she is free.
With her thick black boots and her heavy coat,
She’s wherever, whoever she wishes to be.

With the wind in her hair and her eyes open wide,
She imagines the lies are all true;
And the fantasy land she wishes was real,
Wasn’t just her escape from you.

As she grasps the railing she thinks she’s alive,
But she knows she can never be sure,
With her heart broken so many times,
She supposes she’s died before.

With a blade in her pocket and the water below,
There are so many ways just to end it.
And the cars rushing by and more ways to just die,
But no, for you, she will spend it.

Here on the bridge the bruises aren’t real,
Nor the scar she’s had since she was three.
Here on the bridge everything is just,
The way she still thinks somehow it could be.

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